Nothing Else Matters
by Zoi no miko
Summary: Angst and John Murdoch/Daniel Schreber slash. Schreber knows that Murdoch should really be with his wife, even if she isn't the same person anymore. But it doesn't stop him from falling in love anyway.
1. Years

Standard disclaimer: I do not own or make money off of 'Dark City' or its characters, this is a work of fan fiction only. :)

Authors notes: This fic has been (heavily) edited to fit your K-M rated website. Please contact me for the Director's cut. Fic written as part of the FF100 writing challenge to be their own sequential story.

* * *

**Nothing Else Matters**

**Years  
**  
Sometimes John Murdoch wondered what the hell had exactly been in that syringe. He'd carried it in his breast pocket, listening to but not believing that it held the answers he was looking for, but at the same time not willing to throw it away, not willing to chance that it might be important. There was something in the young doctor's eyes, some pleading desperation, so while he wouldn't take him at his word, he didn't entirely reject him. Besides, he was the best link they had to the Strangers - someone human, weak. Something in this mess of endless night that John could control.

He'd almost forgotten about the syringe, focused on other things - Shell Beach, then Emma, trapped in their clutches. Forgot about it until the doctor stood over him, strapping him to that wheel, until the doctor discreetly pulled it from his coat. His voice was low and laboured with whatever it was that stole his breath, and throaty with emotion, with rebellion and... excitement? And then he felt pain, searing, stabbing into his forehead and bursting red-hot through his skull. Pain and oblivion.

Pain and then... memories. Years and years of memories flooding into his mostly empty mind, the product of the syringe and its strange chemicals. Years and years of the man with the honey coloured hair - Daniel, thought John, though his mind had not completely associated that name with Doctor Schreber until that moment. Years of being taught, guided, trained, until his mind could act and react in an instant, harness the strange power he had developed. And Daniel beside him each step of the way.

It was almost too much to take in at once, so he shut his mind down, turned his emotions off, concentrated simply on the knowledge and experience he had been given. He had to, to survive. To beat them.

He didn't start to feel again until after everything was over, until the strangers were dead and the city in ruins. Until the Doctor limped toward him, battered and dirty and scarred. So unlike the Daniel in his memories, but the eyes that watched him behind the wire rimmed spectacles were the same, the same beautiful, intense blue. And as he realized this, years and years of memories all piled together in a rush, in something that felt a little like a mental blow to the head, almost leaving his ears ringing. He managed to mask it, though his body was fairly tingling with sensory overload, with trying to process years of images and emotions all at once, and suddenly it was no longer Doctor Schreber in front of him but Daniel. The beginning and end of his world, his saviour, and something in him screamed desire, something that he instantly clamped away, because things couldn't ever be like -that-, even if he wanted Daniel more than anything his messed up, synthesized memories contained, wanted to possess him and heal every scar, kiss away all the pain. Things couldn't be like that, even though he realized that he was alone in the city, alone among the thousands of people who knew nothing of Strangers or Tuning or Experiments. Alone apart from Daniel. Daniel who he needed with an aching desire that he didn't even understand, but couldn't have, because how could something like that be shared or returned or even expressed? And how could he set aside the intense feeling of regret, of self hatred and disgust, for hurting Daniel like he had?

He didn't notice the pain in those blue eyes when he turned away from Daniel with outward calmness to work on the city. Pushing him away. Leaving him for things that were easier to think about, things that didn't make him feel so much. For Shell Beach.


	2. How?

**How?**

On a day when he should have been so happy, Daniel Schreber didn't quite understand why he felt so much pain. The Strangers were dead, or slowly dying. He'd watched their leader, their fulcrum, destroyed by Murdoch, watched the alien being inside the human shell try to escape, and die. There would be no more experiments, no more nights of endless darkness, no more punishments. He was free.

All he could think about, however, as he watched John Murdoch walk away, was that he was alone.

It was a sobering thought, and he made his way slowly back toward his apartment. Of course, he should be alone now. Murdoch had no reason to trust him, or even like him, really. Daniel had been the Stranger's plaything. How could Murdoch know he was anything less than a willing participant in the years of atrocities that were visited on the people of the city?

But there had been something in John's eyes, a strange expression, emotion, as the two of them stood amidst the ruins of the newly liberated city. For a moment, it had looked like John had wanted to ask him to come with him, and it had reminded Schreber of how handsome the dark haired man was, reawakened old desires that had been banked down for years, from a time he couldn't remember, when he'd been nothing more than a man like everyone else. He felt like he would have done anything for John in that moment, anything that he'd asked, anything at all.

But the moment had passed, and John had turned away, asking nothing, and left.

He was just passing the movie theater when he saw Emma - Anna, now - hurrying to catch the bus to Shell Beach. He shouldn't be surprised by it, he'd made her memories that way, after all. The Prince should have his Princess.

He gave a soft, sad smile and turned away, continuing home and wondering how on earth his heart could be broken by someone he didn't even know.

~~TBC~~


	3. Drink

**Drink**

Weeks passed, and nothing changed for Schreber. The days became normal, regular periods of daylight and night. And he was free of the Strangers, free of their experiments. But still he felt numb, detached, and went through the motions of each day almost mechanically, feeling nothing. Alone.

At the back of the tiny bar by his apartment, no one really cared about the crippled man in the chocolate brown fedora, which was just how Schreber wanted it. It was too jarring, seeing the faces of people he'd given dozens of lifetimes worth of memories to. People whose life story and character he knew in an instant, before they even opened their mouths. He'd thought that perhaps alcohol would help, help him forget enough to talk to someone, anyone, like a normal human being. But instead the bourbon seemed to make things worse, separate him even more from reality than he already was.

When the chair beside him was pulled away, it took him a long moment to look up, away from the empty glasses and into green eyes that watched him with concern. The last person he expected to see in such a place. "Oh....."

"Danie - I'm sorry - Dr. Schreber..." John Murdoch stopped, as if he wasn't quite sure what to say, but it didn't matter to Schreber. John was different, the only one in the city who'd grown past the experiments. He could inject John with a thousand memories, imprint him with a thousand different personas, and he was sure that the man would still be the same, brave and regal.

"Daniel is fine," he found himself replying, voice a little rougher than expected. Raw from the alcohol that burned his throat, that lifted the dampers on his emotions. He found himself suddenly needing, craving the familiarity that he couldn't foster with anyone else in this city, but perhaps could foster with John. "Please."

Dark eyebrows over green eyes knit together slightly as the man sat down beside him. So unusual to find such light coloured eyes with chestnut hair. Striking. "Are you all right, Daniel? I didn't expect to find you... here."

He stared back for several minutes. Green with little flecks of brown right in the middle, something which was surprisingly enthralling. Maybe he could count the brown in his eyes if the world wasn't quite so unstable. "... yes," he said finally. "It's just a bit... difficult sometimes, still being the observer but... having nothing to observe." What was he saying? It didn't make sense, even to his own ears. "I'm sorry, I mean to say -- it's been hard to adjust, to the way things are now. Nothing is real -- anymore. Nothing was ever real."

The man beside him shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Daniel sighed, leaning back in his chair, sipping the remains of his most recent drink. He gave a little nod toward a man who sat at the bar, drinking to forget, much like he was. "Observe that man. Jacob Barrowman. Labourer at the riverfront. Wanted to be a cop, but he got into trouble when he was younger and -- got a bad record. His father beat him and his mother -- deserted them when he was 8, to go live with another woman. But before that he was Richard Grace, city bus driver. Wife and two kids, happily married. Played poker on Wednesday nights -- with the boys. I could tell you the same and more for every -- person in the bar, even the whole -- city." He turned back to John, feeling his eyes narrow. "It is all a lie. All of it. Everyone in this city -- around us. Every. Damn. Person." He raised a hand to attract the waitress as she neared their table. "Another, please. And one for Mr. Murdoch."

John was silent for a long moment, watching the man the doctor had referred to. "Call me John," he said slowly, glancing back at him. "If I am John, to you. Does it matter what they remember, as long as it's real to them?"

Daniel gave a soft, bitter laugh, taking the drink from the waitress as she arrived, passing the other to John. "No. Not to them, it doesn't. They will never know -- the difference. Not like you and I. Sometimes I hate everyone-- for it. But truly, it is just... envy." He was saying too much, the words were too easy to speak. Too difficult to close down the floodgates he'd opened. "Even with the Strangers gone, I am still a prisoner -- of Their experiments. You should not have saved me." He took another long swallow, felt it burn refreshingly hot going down his throat, and coughed.

"Daniel..." such surprise and sorrow in those green eyes, and they were more piercing than Daniel wanted to admit, cutting through the haze of the bourbon and tightening around his heart. "You really feel like you have nothing?"

He forced himself to look away, down to the liquid and ice in his glass, swirling it around slowly, hearing a bitter laugh leave his twisted lips. "The closest thing I have to a past, is what I have given -- to you."

A sigh, and John gulped back most of his drink in one go. "Then I suppose I'm no different than the rest."

"That is entirely -- not true, John."

"How is it not?" A challenge in his eyes. "Tell me how. Tell me who I am like you did for that guy. It's the same."

Daniel looked down at the table quickly, before his emotions could betray him, before he let it all spill out without restraint. "You are... different, John. You are you, regardless of -- what you remember. You broke free."

"Only because of you."

"Perhaps not. Well." He closed his eyes with a little sigh. "Please do not -- trouble yourself with me. This is my cross to bear. My punishment. Or shall we say... karma? The end result of my -- actions."

"Misery?" John murmured softly. "To be alone? No one deserves that, Daniel. Least of all you."

The kindness of his words was almost too much for him. He felt his body shudder, and retreated to the safety of the bourbon, draining the glass. Trying to react any way other than how he felt. Looking up at him, lashing out, finding it even harder to breathe than normal, in the face of this emotion. "No? Then tell me how to change things, Mr. Murdoch. I do not think that your -- abilities -- can solve this."

John looked a little hurt, and was silent for a long moment, finishing his drink as well. "Daniel..."

"You can't help me, can you?" He turned his face away bitterly from those green eyes.

"Come back to Shell Beach with me."

For a moment, Daniel's heart stopped beating, and he felt the tips of his ears heat. Then he told himself firmly that no, John most definitely was not asking for -that-, nothing that wasn't completely platonic, and he took a few breaths to calm himself, as deep as he can, wincing as his lungs and diaphragm complained. "I do not think that you want me -- as a house guest."

"I very much know that I do," John replied evenly. "Come back with me, just for a few days if you want. Just to get away from the city." John's eyes searched his as he looked back. "... please?"

He almost couldn't comprehend it, the kindness, the care. "Why?"

Green eyes darted away from his again, lips tightening just a little. "You're not the only one alone in this lie."

"Anna - "

"Anna isn't you. And she's not the woman I loved - thought I loved - anymore." He looked strangely embarrassed, and Daniel stared at him fuzzily, still not understanding. He almost questioned it out loud, but caught himself at the last moment.

"I am not sure that I will be -- good company, John," he said finally, trying to be as frank as he could be, and John smiled, patting his hand lightly where it sat on the table. His skin was warm. Real.

"Let me be the judge of that, okay?"

He hesitated, then nodded. Despite his better judgement, he couldn't say no when John was looking at him like that. "All right."

John smiled warmly, something almost blindingly beautiful in its joy. "Let's go, then," He stood, and there was a flicker of - something- in his eyes that Daniel knew meant Tuning, and the dark haired man tossed several bills from seemingly no-where on the table to cover the tab.

"Now?" He tried to stand as well, stumbling a little and grabbing the back of John's chair for support. "Thank you - ah - I'm sorry, I -- am rather inebriated..."

He felt an arm slip around his waist, tight and strong, holding him up and supporting him. His back ached faintly from it, but the warm vibrations of the alcohol, along with the soft pleasant shock of having John's arm around his waist, dulled the usual pain enough to make it bearable. He heard John chuckle very softly under his breath. "You're even eloquent when you're drunk."

"Thank you," he managed faintly, not knowing how else to reply, letting John guide him to the exit, support him. "John, I - I have to go home, I have no clothes...."

"I'll take care of anything you need," came the calm reply, and Daniel found himself taken outside and bundled into a taxi cab. He let himself lean against the warm body next to him, suddenly feeling very weary and out of touch with reality. Weary enough to let his head rest on John's shoulder, enough not to care that it pushed his hat askew. He felt John lift the fedora off his head, fingers stroking lightly over his hair, felt his own body shudder under the gentleness of his touch, under something he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. Perhaps ever. He couldn't remember anything past Their reign, past the ruined remains of his memories, past years of working for Them in darkness.

"I'm sorry," he tried to say, only to have John shush him softly.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Daniel. Nothing at all. I should be the one apologizing." A soft sigh, and Daniel tried to reply, tried to question it, but found that his mouth didn't want to respond, that his body didn't want to do anything but disappear into the warmth and strength of John's shoulder, into the thrumming vibrations of the alcohol in his system.

He was vaguely aware of the cab stopping, eventually, of John paying and then carefully lifting his head from his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Come on, doctor. Help me get you out of the cab and then I can do the rest."

He summoned enough coordination to let John help him out of the car, feeling his hat placed back on his head. "I'm sorry," he tried again faintly, feeling John's hands steady him, help him to stand, and then as the cab drove off, strong arms wrapped around him entirely, holding him achingly close.

"Shhh," John murmured, breath warm on his ear. "Hold on tight, it'll only take a moment to get inside."

He did so, not being able to think about anything but how good it felt to be held so securely, and how much he'd shamefully wanted such contact from John for so very long. He gave a soft, shuddering sob before he could help himself, and felt the arms tighten around him, felt his feet settle on solid ground, though he'd hardly been aware that they were not previously.

"I'm sorry," John was murmuring, voice soft and warm, and he felt his hat pulled away again, felt strong fingers stroke gently over his hair, urging his face to nestle against the warmth of that shoulder, one arm still tight around his waist. "I've been a coward. I never meant to hurt you, but I was afraid...."

He couldn't find the coherency to process his words, or to answer them, beyond a vague confusion. How could John ever be afraid of anything? And he knew that John was just trying to comfort him, but he couldn't stop trembling, couldn't stop the tears, all his defenses torn down by this simple kindness, by this badly craved affection, even though he knew it meant nothing of what he wanted it to mean.

"I'm sorry," he managed. "I'm - I'm so tired...."

"Of course...." He felt John pull away. Daniel tried to dry his eyes with the back of his sleeve, clumsily pushing the wire rimmed glasses up, and felt them taken from him gently. "You can sleep here. Your glasses are on the table beside the bed." Warm hands taking his coat, his suit jacket, gently unbuttoning the vest underneath before he managed to push them away as they started at his shirt.

"No - please...." His fingers clutched the fabric, unable to bare the thought of being more exposed in front of this man, and John gave another little soothing noise.

"Of course, just want you to be comfortable." The voice was rich and soothing, like cream, but did he detect a hint of nervousness? It was so hard to tell, with this blur over his senses, over his mind. He let John guide him into bed, take his shoes off and tuck a thick, warm quilt around him. "There's a glass of water next to your glasses," his voice said softly. "If you can manage to, you should drink it."

Daniel gave a soft, weary noise of agreement, wanting nothing more than for the night to be over so that he could put himself back together.

Gentle hands smoothed over his hair again, and after a short pause, he felt the softest touch of John's lips to his forehead. It almost completely broke him, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip, barely able to hold back until John left the room. Then he gave in and sobbed silently into the pillow until sleep finally claimed him.

~~tbc~~


	4. Breakfast

**Breakfast**

When Daniel awoke, it took him a few moments to remember where he was and what had happened. He remembered the bar and the embarrassingly large amount of bourbon all too easily, but everything else was a bit fuzzy. He wasn't quite sure how he'd agreed to come to John's home in Shell Beach, but he remembered with all too much clarity how good it had felt to be pulled close to the other man, how defenseless he'd been against his own emotions.

He closed his eyes again with a soft groan, rubbing them blindly with the back of a wrist, the pleasant oblivion of the alcohol having turned to a pounding headache. The thought of facing John left him feeling vulnerable and a little terrified, especially not being able to clearly recall if he had said or done anything inappropriate in his inebriated state. He fought to push the fears down for politeness's sake. John had been very kind to him, though he still wasn't entirely sure how he came to run into the dark haired man in that little bar in the first place....

He sat up and looked blearily around the neatly kept bedroom, which, he saw once he'd put his glasses back on, was clean and bright and simple, a little refreshing. His coat, jacket and vest hung from a hanger on the back of the door, along with a white bathrobe. He'd just finished the glass of water when a light knock came at the door, a soft call. "Daniel?"

"I'm up," he replied with a sigh, looking up as the door cracked open.

"Hey." John gave a soft smile, already dressed. "How are you feeling?"

He managed to return the smile. "Like I've had -- too much to drink," he replied frankly.

John gave a soft chuckle, entering the room and perching beside him on the bed. "Hold still, I think I can help a little with that." Warm hands cupped either side of his head, and John closed his eyes, voice a little distracted. "Don't worry... this is one of the first things... I taught myself." He felt tingling warmth spread from those hands, through his skull and down his spine, soft and comforting, and he watched John with wide eyes as he pulled his hands away.

"How to -- heal a hangover?"

A little grin. "It comes in handy. Hey - if you want to shower or anything, the bathroom's down the hall. I'll leave some clothes here for you."

"Thank you," Daniel replied gratefully, "For both. And for letting me -- stay."

A little wistful smile. "It's good to have company. I'll be downstairs."

"John..." he tried again, and stopped, watching the other man as he turned back into the room, raising an eyebrow in response to his call. Daniel wet his lips. "If I - if I said or did anything -- inappropriate...."

John smiled again and shook his head. "Don't worry, doc. You were the very picture of propriety. See you in a bit."

"Thank you..." He watched John leave, still a little uncertain about it, but decided to take him at his word.

Between whatever John had done and a hot shower, he felt much more human. When he returned to the room there was a buff colored suit hanging from the door. Although it wasn't his usual colour, he found himself quite liking how well tailored it was. Once he was dressed, it seemed rather more appropriate for Shell Beach than his regular wardrobe, for the mid morning sun that streamed through the sheer white curtains. It was beautiful, John's house, in a simple, comfortable way. Perhaps it wasn't so much how it looked as how it felt - warm and inviting and full of sunlight. But what was he doing here? He tried again to think back to the night before. He remembered tears, and John's hand stroking his hair, and the dark haired man talking... about what? He couldn't remember, and it frustrated him. He felt like he was missing something important, some idea or realization that hung just out of reach.

John was already seated at the table when he found his way into the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee. The table was laid out with an impressive spread of fresh fruit and various pastries. He looked over it all before sitting at the other place setting, raising an eyebrow at John. "Are you expecting -- an army?"

The dark haired man laughed, warm and at ease. "No, no... I suppose I did overdo it a little. Just didn't know what you'd want. Don't worry, just eat what you like. It won't go to waste."

He smiled. "Thank you. If it's not too much of a worry, might I trouble you for -- some tea? Orange Pekoe?"

"Oh!" John looked a little surprised, and moved aside a few of the dishes to make room for the tea service that was Tuned into being, delicate blue and white china. "I'm sorry, somehow I assumed you'd have coffee...."

He smiled, more touched than he wanted to let on by John's fussing. "No, no, this is all very -- kind of you. Thank you." They sat in silence for a few moments, eating, and Daniel reflected that being with John was strangely comfortable, much more so than he'd expected, even if only in silence.

He sat back in his hair finally, sipping his cup of tea. "Thank you for taking care of me -- last night," he said softly. "You shouldn't have had to -- deal with that kind of immaturity. I'm very sorry for -- my behavior...."

John sat back as well, watching him with a little wistful smile. "There's nothing wrong with a little indulgence. You have nothing to be sorry for, Daniel. Really."

The words were familiar, and he watched John for a long moment, letting the memories of last night slowly start to come back to him. "You're not a coward, John."

Dark eyebrows raised slightly. "What makes you say that?"

"Last night -- you said...."

"Ah." John glanced away, looking a little embarrassed, and took a sip of his coffee. "Debatable. But thank you all the same."

Daniel watched him, still trying to piece things together. "But you asked for forgiveness.... for what?"

John's gaze still evaded his, hands wrapped around the coffee mug. "For... for hurting you."

"You haven't..."

"No?" Green eyes snapped to his, troubled. "I treated you very badly, in the beginning, when all you offered me was help."

"You had no reason to -- trust me, John...."

"Regardless, it's inexcusable." His lips tightened into a thin line, and he shook his head slightly. "It was vile of me. It was no better than what They did to you."

"Not for a moment." Daniel felt his eyes narrow. "Don't ever class yourself with -- Them. You are more brave and -- noble than anyone I have ever -- had the fortune to meet. Circumstances were unfortunate then, we all did what -- we had to."

"There was no reason for me to have to - "

He shook his head, holding a hand up to cut him off, speaking gently. "I forgave you for it a long ago, John. Please don't continue to -- let it have power over you."

John looked back to him, looking almost astonished, and more than a little touched. "... thank you. It's... it's very sweet of you, to say that."

He lowered his eyes, feeling the tips of his ears heat self-consciously. "There is no need to -- thank me. You have given me freedom. I can never -- repay you for that."

"You saved my life. Or at least from whatever horrible end they had planned for me. You've never owed me anything, Daniel."

He looked so eager, so sincere, and Daniel found he didn't dare hold his gaze, for fear of bringing back the overwhelming emotions of the night before, for fear of losing control again. But John was still speaking, still nursing the cup of coffee.

"It was very selfish of me," he said, softly, "to disappear out here after everything had happened, and just desert you in the city. I was only thinking of myself and my own pain. I'm sorry about that, too."

Daniel managed to shake his head. "You were looking for your wife. I'm very sorry, by the way, that it didn't -- work out. I did try to make her imprint - her new memories, that is - so that she would -- love you...."

A flash of surprise from John. "Really? That's how she thought she knew me, it was your doing?"

He felt the heat in his ears intensify, moving down slowly to his cheeks. "I had hoped you would -- be happy. I am sorry that it failed."

"No...." John was still watching him, a little incredulous. "It didn't, she did - love me, or at least like me, I guess. But... I don't love her." He glanced away. "I'm not even sure I really felt love for Emma, to tell you the truth. She's not who's important to me anymore."

Daniel tried to talk, to ask him who it was, but the words stuck in his throat, afraid of the consequences of such an answer. "I... see," he managed finally, swallowing.

John caught his gaze, green eyes to blue. "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. I wasn't sure you'd want to see me after everything I deserted you.... It's just... it's hard being here on my own, you know? Knowing I can change all this at a whim, that nothing's real. You can't explain that to people. I couldn't tell Anna." His gaze was hopeful, as if begging him to understand what was left unsaid, and Daniel wet his lips lightly after watching for a moment.

"I know," he said softly, then spoke again, hesitantly. "I think, perhaps... that I need your company -- as much as you need -- mine."

John left out a relieved sigh, nodding. "Yes, exactly. I do, Daniel, very much, as strange as that may sound."

He gave a soft, tentative smile, trying to push aside the tension, the desire that made his heart beat fast. "Thank you for -- having me here, John."

His friend returned the smile, setting down his empty coffee cup. "You will always be welcome here."


	5. Triangle

**Triangle**

Daniel wasn't particularly sure why he'd suggested that John rekindle his relationship with Anna. It certainly wasn't what he wanted, though he knew very well that what he did want simply wasn't possible. Perhaps it was the remnants of some sense of chivalry. After all, John deserved to be happy. Who was he to begrudge him anything that made him that way?

The first time he'd mentioned it, when he'd been a guest at his house in Shell Beach for almost a week, John had looked a little sad, a little wistful. "I suppose," he'd replied finally, noncommittally, and changed the subject back to something else. It was definitely easier to talk about something else, and delightfully Daniel had found that he and John could converse easily about a seemingly unending number of topics, from the workings and upkeep of the city - which Daniel had begun to help him puzzle out and organize - to music and literature, something which seemed to fascinate John. They'd returned to the city a few times, to visit Daniel's office, to scour the city for the books left over from the strangers, for hidden jewels speaking about the history of where they'd come from, a place the books called "earth".

Daniel couldn't recall a time when he'd felt such joy. Even though he still needed to watch himself very carefully around John, keep himself from getting into situations or conversations where his tight control on his own emotions would slip, he craved what they did have, craved the easy company and the sense of not being alone. Even if they did nothing but relax on his porch, each with a book, or John reading aloud, it was such a bright contrast to everything he'd known before, the dark and cold and loneliness.

They were in town one day, simply walking, when he finally met Anna. He heard her voice first, sweet and light, calling for John, and then their was a rush of hair and dress and her arms were thrown around John's neck as he was pulled into a tight hug, her pink lips pressed warmly to his.

His dark haired friend smiled, though it seemed somehow strained. "Hey Anna."

She was all smiles. "How have you been? I was afraid I wouldn't see you again, I haven't seen you in over a week."

"I - I had some business to take care of, I'm sorry. Anna - I'd like you to meet Daniel Schreber, a very dear friend of mine."

He smiled, graciously, and offered a hand, which she shook. "I've heard so much -- about you, Anna."

Her smile was a little confused. "I wish I could say the same. How long have you and John known each other?"

"Since I was very young, actually," John answered for him with a little smile. "We went to school together. Daniel's been working in the city for these past few years, but I managed to lure him out here for a well-deserved vacation."

Somehow they ended up having dinner together at his own suggestion. Anna was sweet, flirty, and talkative. Everything that John should have. But he found himself slowly shutting down throughout the night, talking less and watching more, trying to keep himself from feeling envious of the girl. She was so sweet, so perfect for John. After all, he'd made her that way.

He realized, too late now, that it had been a very bad idea to come here to Shell Beach, to have spent so much time with John. Regardless of how platonic that time had been, he'd gotten to used to the idea of the two of them together, to the point where seeing John with someone else made him feel very and envious and dark and ugly inside. He paid, when they finished dinner, and excused himself with a little smile. "John, please feel free to see Anna home. I'm afraid my leg is bothering me -- too much for the walk, I will take a taxi back -- to your house."

John didn't hide his disappointment, but nodded. "Of course. I'll see you there."

The house was cold without John, regardless of the golden light of the setting sun. Being alone, he found, was worse than being with them, and he couldn't push aside the ache in his heart, couldn't stop his mind from thinking of what they could be doing, talking about. Couldn't stop seeing Anna kissing John. It was a dangerous path to walk down, and he didn't know how to stop himself. Finally, he came to the inevitable conclusion of how to resolve his thoughts and feelings, and quietly packed the few things he had into the small suitcase he'd brought back, leaving the light coloured summer suits John had Tuned for him hanging in the closet.

He didn't notice John's presence until he was almost finished, until he turned to find him standing in the door, and started. "John!"

The dark haired man looked confused, and more than a little hurt. "You're leaving?"

He tried to avoid his gaze, keeping it on the suitcase as he closed it. "I have taken advantage of your -- hospitality for too long, I'm afraid."

John shook his head. "No. I like having you here, it's no trouble at all..."

"Thank you." He wet his lips. "Still. I have -- neglected my office. I must go. I'm sorry."

John took a few steps into the room to stand by his side. "This is about Anna, isn't it."

"Of course not."

"Then what is it?" There was more hurt in his expression, and a little anger. "Tell me, please."

"I need to leave," he replied softly, heart aching, pushing past John and heading out into the hallway.

The wall beside him shifted into another doorway without warning, and John insinuated himself in front of him in the hall, both hands braced on the walls to keep him from leaving. So close to him, so close that Daniel could feel the heat of his skin, smell his cologne, and he turned his face away with a little shiver, trying to push away his emotions, stay strong in his resolve. "Please, John...."

"Don't go," John said softly, anguish apparent in his voice. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry...."

"You didn't do anything -- wrong," he replied, not moving, not turning, heart pounding at their closeness, at the warmth and scent of him. It was too much, too much to handle, to keep resisting, and he knew without a doubt he had to leave, before his weakening barriers crumbled all together, before he said things he would certainly regret, that would end their gentle friendship. It was too tempting, to hard to resist the urge to speak, to tell him everything that he shouldn't, with John standing so close to him. "Please, I... I need to leave."

John sighed, a long, shuddering breath. "I need you," he whispered, and it almost broke Daniel.

"You need your wife," he managed. "A nice, normal life. As do I."

"She's not - she's never been my wife. I don't want Anna," came the desperate reply, and Daniel's eyes flicked to his, shielding himself against need and desire, against the anguish he saw in his green eyes.

"You should want Anna," he replied softly, then reached to gently remove John's hand from the wall, pushing past him and leaving the house. He half expected John to follow him, to continue the argument, but there was no movement from the house.

With a heavy heart, he hailed a cab and started back for the city.

~~TBC~~


	6. Why?

**Why?**

It rained for days after Daniel left Shell Beach - not a hard rain, but a constant drizzle that started on his way back into the city, enough to make everything cold and wet and damp. It rather fit his mood, Daniel reflected bitterly, somewhere in his well of self hatred. He hated himself for leaving, especially on such bad terms, but he knew it was the inevitable conclusion to their friendship, and the only conclusion that wouldn't end in straight out hatred and rejection, which he knew was what would happen if John ever found out how he really felt, his overwhelming, unnatural desire and need for the other man.

He tried to distract himself, holing up in his apartment, reading through his library, but everything reminded him of John, made him ache more. And he couldn't help but think about Anna as well, the way that she'd kissed him, the way they'd look if they made love. Finally, he left the apartment late one evening, needing a much stronger kind of distraction despite his previous resolutions not to go down that path again.

The bar was only a block from his apartment, not far enough that he needed an umbrella, the brim of his hat keeping the light rain out of his eyes and off his glasses. As he slipped inside, he stopped dead, staring at the familiar profile at the table at the back of the room - the same table, he realized, that he so often chose. He caught the arm of a waitress as she slipped by. "Excuse me... how long has that man -- been here?"

She followed his gaze. "Oh, him. Since about seven, same as every night for the past couple days. You know him?"

"He is -- a friend."

She looked a little sympathetic. "You should have some words with him, then. We've had carry him into a cab at the end of the night every time he's been here. He needs an intervention."

Daniel nodded slowly, shocked and a little saddened by her words, and thanked her, making his way slowly across the room, letting his hands rest on the chair beside him. "John."

Green eyes looked up at him blearily. "Daniel."

He returned the gaze for a long moment, conflicted. He wasn't ready, not at all, to speak with John again, to face the inevitable conversation about his departure. What the waitress had said chilled him, though, and he couldn't bring himself to leave John to face such a state on his own. "May I join you?"

"Thought you'd never ask," the dark haired man replied, draining the last of his drink. Bourbon, Daniel recognized from the smell as he sat down, his usual choice. "Can I buy you a drink?"

He hesitated, then nodded. He'd need it, to get through this. "Thank you."

John waved down the waitress, who brought two more drinks without much delay. Daniel sipped at it, trying to concentrate on the rich burn and not on his pounding heart, not on the effect that being so close to John had on him.

"Was beginning to think you wouldn't ever come," John said softly, after a sip, words a little less articulate than normal.

Daniel glanced over at him in surprise. "You have been drinking here... waiting for me?"

"Worked the first time, didn't it?" John blinked a couple of times, as if to clear his vision. "Don't know where you live."

He flushed despite himself, lowering his head a little. "You should be home," he said, gently. "Where is Anna?"

"Don't wanna be at home or with Anna," John replied, glaring down at his drink fiercely. "Told you that. You don't believe me." He drained the glass, setting it back down. "I need another. You?"

Daniel sighed, reaching tentatively to cover John's hand on the table with his. "John... please stop this."

Green eyes flashing angrily, challengingly "Why should I?"

Daniel returned his gaze evenly. "Because I cannot -- carry you home."

For a moment, Daniel saw pain, and then John turned away, looking down with a little shudder. "You... dammit Daniel, you're so confusing. Or I am. I don't know."

He patted John's hand gently, not knowing what else to do, realizing that whether or not he wanted it, he needed to address the issue of his departure. "Would you like -- to talk about it?"

John was silent for a long moment. "Sure, why the hell not. Not here, though. There someplace private around here?"

"My apartment is only a block -- away...." Daniel finished his drink, feeling the alcohol warm him pleasantly, though it didn't make him feel any stronger, any more sure of himself.

"Good." John stood, throwing down bills - probably much more than he needed to leave to pay for the drinks, Daniel reflected - and started for the door a little unsteadily, seemingly trusting him to follow. When they stepped out of the bar, John looked up at the sky with a little frown. "Damn... forgot about this... just a second." He leaned back against the side of the building, and Daniel caught that strange glint, that twist of reality in his eyes. Glancing up toward the sky, he saw the clouds part over them, the rain stopping.

"The rain was your doing -- too?" he asked, astonished, tugging John away from the building, starting for his apartment.

John gave a soft, bitter laugh. "Yeah. Misery loves company and all that." He followed behind Daniel slowly, keeping up easily with the doctor's limping gait. "Daniel... why did you leave me?"

Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a pang of guilt at the obvious hurt in John's voice. It was a question he'd thought about almost constantly over the past couple of days, and he was no closer to an answer that he could actually tell to John. He cleared his throat softly. "I am sorry, John. I simply did not want to -- overstay my welcome. Here we are." He opened the door to the apartment building for John, following him inside and hitting the button for the elevator.

"You wouldn't have," John replied, a little sullenly. "Wish you'd believe me for once."

"Please, John. It's not that I don't -- believe you...."

"Then what is it?" He could hear the frustration join the hurt in John's voice. "We were fine until we ran into Anna. Then you got all cold and closed yourself off and left me. What was I supposed to think?"

Daniel got into the elevator as the door opened, hitting the button for his floor, trying very hard not to read things into his words that weren't there. "That you should not let -- someone like me -- distract you from what is -- important."

"Goddammit!" John's hands caught his shoulders, turning him and pushing him up against the side of the elevator, firm but not rough, surprisingly strong despite the drink. "I keep telling you. She's not important. YOU are."

He closed his eyes and turned his face away from John, a shudder running through him at his touch, his words, at the warmth of him, at the scent of bourbon mixed with John's cologne, all of it going to his head in a dizzy mass of uncertainty. It left him trembling with the effort of holding back, wanting so badly to press close to him, and he forced his hands to stay splayed against the wall of the elevator. "Please don't -- say that, John."

"Why not?" Anger dissolved to helplessness. "I need you, Daniel. God help me, I'll never have you way I want, but can't we at least be friends?"

He chanced to look up at him, searching his face for a long moment, trying to understand his words. "The way you... want?"

John gave a soft, helpless laugh, green eyes sad under his gaze. Full of loneliness, but something much more than that. Longing. "Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

The elevator stopped, and Daniel glanced toward the open doors, heart pounding at the implications of the other man's words, trying very hard not to feel any kind of hope or joy, trying not to jump to conclusions. He tried to speak and found voice weaker than he expected. "My... apartment...."

"Fuck your apartment," John said, a little roughly, and leaned in to cover Daniel's mouth with his own.

For a moment, Daniel panicked and tried to break away, bringing his hands up to John's chest to push him away like he knew he should. But he couldn't do it, couldn't ignore the thrill of pleasure and elation that raced down his spine, so instead his arms slipped up around John's neck, pulling him closer, drinking in his kisses desperately like he would drown without them. His lips parted easily to deepen the kisses, tasting bourbon and cigarettes on John's lips, chest heaving as he gasped helplessly for breath against his mouth in the brief instants when John pulled back before invading again, claiming his lips fiercely, hot and needy. John's arms slipped to wrap tightly around his waist, pulling their eager bodies together, pressing him back against the side of the elevator. His weight felt agonizingly wonderful against him, and for a moment, Daniel couldn't think about anything but the moment and John's kisses.

When he finally broke away, they were both breathless; Daniel more so, gasping to try and pull enough air into his ruined lungs. He kept his arms tight around John's neck, fighting against an all to familiar blackness that teased the edges of his vision whenever he failed to get enough oxygen. "Oh...."

John's voice was soft, concerned, breath warm against his hair. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," He managed to gasp, still clinging to him, pressing tight to the solidity of the wall behind him. "I just -- sometimes it's hard to -- get enough air...."

He heard John mutter a soft curse under his breath, and reach over to punch Daniel's floor again on the elevator, which had, unnoticed, returned to the bottom floor while they were distracted. "Don't try and talk... I'll get you inside."

Daniel gave a little nod, feeling very dazed for more reasons than just that. When the elevator stopped, John pulled away just enough to walk with him, arm still tight around his waist, solid and supportive, and Daniel wondered if the man was truly as intoxicated as he had seemed in the bar. He managed to direct John to the door to his apartment, though the other man dispensed with the need for keys and simply Tuned it unlocked, letting them in, helping Daniel with his coat and hat and to sit down on the sofa. Daniel half curled into himself, breathing calmer now, but no less nervous. Watching him. "John...."

The dark haired man settled carefully on the couch beside him, watching him, expression a mixture of emotions that Daniel couldn't place. "Yes?"

He swallowed hard, shivering. "You're - you're intoxicated. You'll regret this tomorrow...."

John paused, then shook his head slowly. "No, and I won't... not unless you do. You don't, do you? Just now... that wasn't one sided." His voice took on a slightly wondering tone, and Daniel lowered his face, feeling the tips of his ears burn.

"No... it wasn't," he half whispered, afraid to look at him, afraid that John would pull back at any moment and realize how crazy, how wrong this was.

John was silent for a long moment, long enough that Daniel's fear began to increase, that he looked up at him worriedly.

"That's why..." John said softly, finally, "Why you always... shiver when I touch you. I used to wonder if you were afraid, because of Them...." He shook his head slowly, still wondering. "God, I've been so blind. I should have known...."

"I didn't want you -- to know," Daniel replied softly, the warmth in his ears burning down to his cheeks. "I was -- I am -- afraid of losing you, John...."

"And that's why you left?"

He looked away again, giving the barest nod. "I couldn't -- stop myself from being jealous... I knew you'd realize it, knew I couldn't keep hiding it." He felt John's hands on his arms, gently moving them from where he clutched his own chest, uncurling his body, pulling him close. He gave a soft, choked sob at how overwhelmingly good the simple contact was, trembling madly, clinging to him, burying his face in the warm solidity of John's shoulder. He felt John's hand stroke over his hair, down his back, making soothing noises.

"How long?" he asked softly, and Daniel made a soft noise, half way between a laugh and another sob.

"Since I -- met you," he breathed, feeling a shudder run through him at the admission. "Since I first -- saw you. I'm so sorry, John...."

"Don't apologize for that." His voice was low, a little husky with emotion, and it made Daniel's heart ache wonderfully. "Apologize for keeping it from me, if you like, for letting me believe I meant nothing to you when you left, but god help me, don't apologize for caring about me. It's all I've wanted, all I've been able to think about for so long. So very long, Daniel."

"You shouldn't," Daniel tried again, desperately, and John pulled back to look at him, surprisingly tender, fingers ghosting gently over the scars on the right side of his face.

"Why shouldn't I...?"

He couldn't help but hold the gaze of those green eyes, couldn't break from their intensity. "You deserve so much -- so much more than a cripple, and a - " He gave a soft, bitter laugh. "A man, John. You deserve someone who can take care of you, have children, someone beautiful - "

John's eyes narrowed. "You are beautiful," he muttered fiercely. "I don't care about the rest of that. I want you. You're the only one who knows me - really knows me, Daniel, and everything I've done, good and bad, and you still accept me as I am, you still - care for me."

"Always," he whispered, more than a little stunned by his words and intensity, and gave a soft moan as John tilted his face up gently to kiss him again, warm and tender this time, mapping his lips with soft, gentle kisses. He couldn't stop trembling, couldn't keep from being overwhelmed by John's gentle affection, his hand warm on his cheek, slipping into his hair, his tongue flicking lightly against his bottom lip. Couldn't keep his lips from parting at the invitation, yielding entirely to him, arching more to him regardless of his aching back. John's tongue invading, claiming his mouth, hot and sweet and eager. Couldn't stop his body from reacting, couldn't stop the soft pulses of desire that shuddered down his spine. Couldn't keep from wanting him.

John broke away as soon as Daniel's breathing grew laboured, watching him with tender concern, placing a hand on his chest and rubbing gently. "God, I'm going to kill you...."

Daniel felt a rush of heat to his cheeks and looked down in shame. "I'm sorry, John, I -- I am not a strong man...."

"Shhh..." lips soft and gentle on his forehead, fingers not stopping their gentle massage. "Let me see if I can do something to fix that...."

Daniel felt a shock of alarm. "Drunk?"

He gave a soft chuckle. "Haven't been drunk since we left the elevator, doc. I can get rid of it just the same as hangovers. I didn't need it anymore, not after the way you kissed me."

He felt warmth, and a slow lifting of the pressure on his chest, a lessening of the ache he'd felt so long and constantly that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like not to have it. His breath grew deeper without him even having to try, and he felt his chest expand, lungs stretch deliciously as he drew a deep breath with no pain. "Ohh...."

A smile. "Is that better?"

He nodded, lips pressed tight together, trying to keep himself from being completely overcome by it all. His voice cracking when he tried to speak. "John - !"

He let John pull him into his arms, pressing his lips to Daniel's hair, voice very soft. "I love you."

That was the last straw, and he broke, the care and kindness overwhelming, too much for him to take in after years of being alone in the darkness. He sobbed helplessly into John's shoulder, drawing huge, gasping breaths, letting out all the stress and heartache of the past few days. "I'm sorry - " he gasped, shuddering. "I shouldn't have left, I - "

"Shhh..." John's fingers stroking over his hair and back, warm and gentle, and eventually he calmed, lulled by his touch, by his voice as he murmured soft words, gentle sentiments to calm him. "Everything's okay now... I have you...."

He drew back, finally, slowly getting control of himself, smiling shyly as John's fingers brushed the tears from his cheeks. He slipped his arms up around his neck, reaching up to kiss him, warm and full and yearning.

"I love you, John," he whispered softly, and knew that despite everything, all that he needed in the world was right here.

~~ fin ~~

Reviews are love (and c/c.) Thank you for reading and sharing my obscure little fandom. :)


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